


He Must Have Been Lonely

by WolfVenom



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Rating May Change, Shapeshifting, Werewolves, Wolf!Derek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-16 06:30:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5817667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfVenom/pseuds/WolfVenom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dog was absolutely huge. At least two layers of sleek black fur draping it's massive body and large ears swiveling this way and that upon it's coarse-haired head. It's long snout lay on both of it's big paws, each toe decorated with a threatening looking claw. Bright blue eyes flicked up and stared at Stiles as he approached, yet it didn't move a muscle. After a seemingly thorough inspection on the dogs' perspective, it yawned and stretched its rump in the air, tail curled high, before straightening out and facing Stiles. It sat right down in front of him, simply gazing with it's strange eyes.<br/>"Oh yeah... This is the one."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the comic strip courtesy of Pilot-Star ( http://www.pilot-star.net/ ).

He had always wanted a dog. The one thing that pretty much stayed a constant through all of Stiles' life; he so desperately wanted a canine companion. It wasn't that his friends and his dad weren't enough, but sometimes having an understanding buddy who won't judge you for the secrets you spill into their fur late at night, is something we all need more than human companionship.

So, this goal drove him here. The local animal shelter. It was a renovated building, the indoor kennels making up most of the space, with the outside kennels as a branch off of the west wing. Volunteers were walking some of the dogs, and indoors there were employees walking around with travel cages with a variety of felines inside. A bustling place with kids and animals alike.

A quick conversation with one of the desk receptionists brought him to one of the more experienced animal caretakers, who volunteered to take him around the dog shelter and answer his questions about each happy pup. She told him about a Basset Hound, a German Shepherd, two Akitas, a litter of Pitbull puppies and a rambunctious Great Dane.  
"Those are the one who have been here the longest, like you asked. Have any of them appealed to you?" She had asked.  
Stiles didn't think so. Each one was running on an autopilot, too giddy, and playful. He wanted a friend with knowing eyes, a wise stare and a calm personality, who he could confide in, and tussle around with. 

He was kneeling down in front of the cage with a husky mix in it. His eyes trailed up and down the rows of cages, looking at each and every dog available.  
He didn't reply to her question, as he spotted a mass in the furthest cage down, pressed up against the back of the cage and unmoving. With Stiles' inquisitive nature? That was a dog worth inspecting.

"Hang on a sec." He muttered, standing and making his way over to the cage. She followed at his heels, clipboard pressed to her chest. Her shoulders tensed as she noticed which one he was approaching, but she said naught a word.

She hung back at the empty cage before the dog, as Stiles approached unfazed, crouching in front of the bars.

The dog was absolutely huge. At least two layers of sleek black fur draping it's massive body and large ears swiveling this way and that upon it's coarse-haired head. It's long snout lay on both of it's big paws, each toe decorated with a threatening looking claw. Bright blue eyes flicked up and stared at Stiles as he approached, yet it didn't move a muscle. After a seemingly thorough inspection on the dogs' perspective, it yawned and stretched its rump in the air, tail curled high, before straightening out and facing Stiles. It sat right down in front of him, simply gazing with it's strange eyes.

"Oh yeah... This is the one." It came out as a mumble, as he was stuck staring at the giant ball of fur. He thread his fingers through the fencing, watching as the dog leaned slightly closer to sniff him, before retracting. 

"You're absolutely sure, Mr. Stilinski? There's still quite a lot you haven't checked out yet." The lady questioned, pulling her clipboard away from her chest and writing some things down.  
"Yeah. This is totally the one"

***

"Derek, Mutt, age unknown, gender; male, not neutered, exact breed unknown, vaccines up to date, tags provided yadda yadda..." Stiles read off the adoption sheet to himself as one of the receptionists completed his adoption process. The lady had allowed him to leash up the pup and walk him to the front desk back inside the shelter, where the forms would be written out.

They had taken the dog to the back to be checked over one last time before departure, leaving Stiles with the woman at the desk to fill out paperwork. He was just finishing scribbling out his messy signature when she spoke up again, just as his dog was brought back in.

"We're really glad you chose him. He doesn't let any body get close to him, you're the first who was even able to touch the cage without getting snarled at." She rambled, stapling some forms together and finalizing the paperwork.

"We believe he went through a lot of pain in his life." 

This made Stiles look up, staring off into space as it sunk in, he pushed his papers towards her and sighed, looking down at the dog sitting politely next to him.  
"He's probably lonely, then. Don't worry, he'll be okay now." He responded, taking the necessary folders and clicking the lead onto the ring of the leather collar, wrapped loosely around Derek's neck. 

"Thanks again! Have a nice day!" The lady called as he left. He walked out the door with a friendly "Thanks!" in response before walking next to the dog to his jeep, parked a ways from the entrance. 

"Come on boy, let's get you home..." He spoke, glancing down at the large dog, who stared straight ahead as it put one large paw in front of another. He seemed to know exactly where they were headed, walking at least thirty centimeters in front of Stiles in the direction of his car. 

Strangely enough, it also stopped right at the exact car. Stiles put it on a keen nose and intuitive sense. He chose well.  
He un-clipped the leash, yet held onto the collar. Wouldn't do to have him run away chasing birds, now.

Stiles opened the door to the passenger seat, stepping back to allow his new buddy to hop in. He tossed the leash in the back as he did so, speaking to himself.  
"I get the feeling you don't need that stupid collar. I'll see if I can keep it off you."

A hand was placed on the dogs back as it climbed into the seat. He felt the muscles under the skin tense, and his head turned around to stare at Stiles with azure electricity. But he was more focused upon what he uncovered by brushing the fur out of the way.  
"Huh."

Three spirals were faintly inked into the skin on his back, forming a symbolic triskele. It confused the Hell out of Stiles. Was this put here by the last owners? Did some kids decide to blowtorch a poor stray? He made tense eye contact with Derek for several more seconds before shrugging it off. His dog had cool ink, end of story.

Stiles pulled his hand back after ruffling the fur up a bit. The dog snuffed in response, clearly not that appreciative of the touching, before the human shut the door and made his way to the drivers side door.

Slipping in and buckling his seat-belt, he spared one more look at his new dog, who faced straight ahead (again, the weirdo), before sighing and turning back to the wheel, sparking the ignition and driving out of the parking lot, jerking over bumps and imperfections on the concrete. 

It would take a while before he had Derek settled in, he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is still a work in progress. I have no plot in mind currently, but I know for sure it will be a multi-chaptered slow burn. Relationships blossom after a few chapters, Derek will turn human by the time he and Stiles start courting one another. First chapter is relatively short, as it is reminiscent of a prologue.


	2. Chapter 2

Living with a dog with a semblance of decency turned out to be an adventure. Whenever Derek wanted to leave he would bite door handles gently until Stiles gave him permission to leave, whenever he was hungry he would pull out some food from his little corner in the pantry, and he strangely didn't seem to want to jump up on any furniture. 

In fact, Stiles even wondered if it was a dog at all. It looked more like a wolf or something. Maybe a wolf-dog. Haha.

He had ditched the collar in favour of a light chain. It looked more like bling for an animal than the leather collar. The tags could be hooked up to the chain, which was loose enough that it didn't put any weight on Derek's neck. All in all, it was better than the hunky leather he had before.

Stiles was lounging around on the couch the day Derek came into the living room. Normally Derek would spend most of his time sleeping inside or prowling around outside. The dog looked around the living room, staring directly at the boy on the couch until Stiles turned to look right back at him. 

"Take a picture, it'll last longer. Get your butt over here, my feet are cold." He said, resting his head on a fist. Derek tilted his head, huffing, and looked hesitant to move. 

"Derek, come on. Up on the couch. It's better than the floor."

And Derek did. His tail swayed with each step, head low to the ground, and he jumped swiftly up onto the cushion currently not occupied by Stiles.

It had been a fortnight since he came home with Derek, and getting him up on the couch was the biggest feat he managed as of yet. Over the course of the two weeks, Derek made it very clear that some places Stiles couldn't pet. For example, when attempting to poke his tail, Derek growled hard and glared at Stiles until his hand was a safe distance from his rump. 

Other off limit places were his tummy and his muzzle. He also didn't seem to appreciate little kisses on his head, which left him sulking after Stiles let him go after.  
The paws were something Derek put up with, though. His paw pads were really soft, strange enough, as Stiles was sure an animal of his stature had been through many wear tear and rust situations in his lifetime. 

But it just made him more unique. 

Stiles glanced over at Derek, lounging curled up in a ball on his cushion, eyes dancing across the TV screen. Didn't dogs only see black and white? What a downer. 

"Derek?" 

A snuff.

"Can you look at me."

Another snuff.

"Come here."

Growl.

Stiles left it at that. 

***

At dinner time, Stiles and his dad sat at the table, Derek chooseing to sit right next to Stiles' chair the whole time. Stiles had always passed him pieces of his meal if he deemed it healthy. One time, he tried to feed him a lemon wedge from his store bought salad. Derek didn't fall for it.

"You should take him on a walk after dinner, Stiles. Help to bond with him a little bit." The sheriff spoke around a mouthful, pointing his fork in Derek's direction. 

"That was the plan dad. He just doesn't like the leash that much. You think you can spare the 'Always keep pets on a leash' bylaw for your adorable and loving son?"

The sheriff gave an incredulous look, raising an eyebrow at his son before shaking his head and returning to picking all the meat from his meal.

"I'll let you get away with not eating your greens if you do it."

They made the deal at that.

***

As expected, Derek walked right at Stiles' side the whole walk. They followed the worn trail through the woods, gloomy shadows spilling onto rotten vegetation and covered brush from the sleepy sun. 

They passed a woman jogging with her own dog. Derek ignored the tiny thing until it got too close to him, and at that point he snapped in it's direction and watched it yip and run after it's owner.

Along the trail there was a hare picking through a bush. Derek perked up, sniffing the air slightly before letting out a gruff bark and watching the rabbit take off. He hung his head back down and continued to follow Stiles.

Stiles was getting antsy with the lack of conversation. A one-sided one was better than none.

"I wonder if you know any tricks." Derek made no move to show he even heard him.

"Can you roll over? Spin? Beg?" Derek kept walking.

"I feel like if I ever wanted to point out where on the doll I hurt the most, it wouldn't be to you." Derek snorted.

"That's all I needed, big guy."

 

They came upon the charred remains of the large house deep in the woods. Stiles was prepared to keep walking, but he soon noticed Derek wasn't following after him.He turned around to see him standing straight, looking directly at the house.

"That's the old Hale house. I never knew any of them personally, but I remember reading some of the files from my dad's records. Now that I think about it, you have the same name as the guy who used to live there." Huh, what a coincidence. He had a grumpy dog who had the same name as a grumpy guy who sulked around the remains of his old house.

Derek looked at Stiles when he spoke, before turning back and trotting up to the house. 

"Derek, Derek no that's private property, come here!" He called out, picking through the leaves to follow his dog. He had already disappeared inside the house, and Stiles had no choice but to wait anxiously at the start of the porch stairs. 

"Derek?" The prickling feeling that he might get in trouble for this was mildly exhilarating, and one hundred percent shitty. 

Only a forever later did Derek re-emerge from the doorway, fur a little more dull with soot and eyes a little more droopy. He paused, one paw lifted from the wood, before taking the lead in his and Stiles' little walk and heading back home, leaving Stiles completely confused by the whole ordeal.

***

The next day was uneventful. His father went to work and he was left to study for school exams on his bed. On a Sunday! How preposterous!

Textbooks and papers were sprawled all over the foot of Stiles' bed, Derek occupying the head of it where he lay snoozing on his pillows. Stiles thanked whatever benevolant deities watching that Derek didn't shed like crazy.

As Stiles mumbled formulas and biology statements to himself, He found himself stumped on one reaction and leaned back, forgetting the dog laying on his pillow. He jolted and almost sat straight back up, fearing he offended him or something, but was surprised when Derek did absolutely nothing.

So, Stiles spent the rest of the afternoon with his head resting against the warm body of his dog, and soon both fell asleep.

Sheriff Stilinski found them both cuddled around each other when he got back from work that night.

***

"Wake up buddy, get your butt to school." 

Stiles groaned, pulling the nearest soft thing closer to his face to block out the sounds of morning and the light of the sun. His nose and mouth were assulted with thick fur and he sputtered, pulling back and tumbling from his bed. He heard a sleepy groan from up above, and Derek's head peeking over the side of the sheets to stare at Stiles.  
"Laugh it up, furball."

***

Stiles met up with Scott at school, both of them shoving books they didn't need into their lockers and heading to their first classes. All of them couldn't go by fast enough, and with coach and his usual bout of insults and just as quick words of affection for his students, he was thankful when the bell signaled lunch. Free period was right after.

Scott and Stiles met up with the rest of their normal gang at the tables outside. Lydia sat next to Allison next to Kira, with the twins and Erica and Boyd on the other. Stiles sat opposite of Scott next to Lydia, who pulled her bag and set it up in front of her on the table to make room for him.

"Anyone else feel their brain melting and dripping from their ears during that exam?"

"What brain are you talking about, Stiles?"

"Very funny, Lyds."

The normal banter continued while Stiles chewed thoughtfully on his lunch. His thoughts were running a million miles per second, from this to that. This earned him a jab in the ribs when he didn't hear the question aimed at him from Allison.

"Sorry, w-what did you say? I wasn't paying attention."

"You never do, Stiles." Lydia sighed, as she turned to Allison.

"I asked if your new dog is doing alright. I mean, Scott's boss is a vet too, so you know that he's literally one car ride away, just in case."

Stiles finished his food and put his elbows on the table. "He's doing good, really good. He's big and fluffy and angsty and I have a feeling he owns the house more than my dad does, but he's good. Speaking of my dog-" He stopped, eyes finding the black form jogging across the schoolyard.

"God damnit."

"Stiles, where are you going?"

"Be right back."

He jogged to meet his dog halfway, kneeling down and looking at him intently.

"How the Hell did you even get out, what are you doing here?" He mumbled, standing up and signaling for him to follow. He did.

Back at the table, he was surprised Derek put up with the prodding from his friends.

"He's a trickster that one. Gonna be hard to shake him off your tail." Boyd piped in, helping Erica pack her bag before the bell rang again.

"I've had him for nearly three weeks and I already feel like I have one foot in the grave." Stiles had one hand softly scritching Derek between the ears, the other palm down on the table. This was gonna be a hassle.

An amazing hassle.

He left Derek outside for the rest of school, coming back out and driving home with his dog in the passenger when it was out. 

They both passed out on the sofa together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like this chapter was lacking, but I wanted to post something badly for you guys. Un-beta'd, sorry for any mistakes. Hope you enjoy, I promise I'll get more plot going soon.


	3. Chapter 3

It was raining when Stiles heard the door open. He was prepared to call out a welcome to his father, but was surprised when it was Scott standing in the doorway, Isaac behind him. 

"I forgot, you guys don't know what 'knocking' is, right." Stiles said, a smile dancing on his lips as he stood and went to say hello. Derek was sitting next to the television, head perking up instantly as the two new people entered the house. 

"It's not like you almost gave my mother a heart-attack fifteen times from popping up in our house like that." They met halfway with a heavy hug. They pulled back to stare at the dog in the corner as a low grumble sounded.

"Is he growling at me?" Asked Isaac.

"Maybe, I can never tell these days if he's serious or just likes the sound of his own anger." Stiles responded, giving Derek a look as the wolf-dog stood and shook his fur, sauntering over to where the three teenagers stood. Stiles rubbed his ear when he got close enough, looking down at him.

"We don't growl at Isaac, Derek. As much as he deserves it." He smiled and patted him a few times before looking back up at his friends. "Besides, he's mostly all bark and no bite." Derek snuffed, frustrated.

***

Isaac and Scott were playing on Stiles' PlayStation an hour later. Stiles lay down on his bed, head resting on Derek's stomach and phone in his hands. The sounds of Scott and Isaac bickering over how to solve this puzzle and that was a calming drone to him, a white noise he is used to. The heat radiating off of Derek was doubling the effect.

"Isaac just shoot it."

"No you're supposed to loop back into this room and place it."

"Isaac."

Stiles smiled to himself, turning over onto his side and shutting off his phone, reaching over and setting it on his bedside table.

He stared at his wall and listened to the chit chattering, head rising and falling to the steady breaths of his dog. His heartbeat was steady. Stiles matched his breathing to try and ease the days' tension from his shoulders.

When he began drifting, he was roused by a small whine. He opened his eyes and sat up, looking down at Derek. He was sleeping, ears and tail twitching. The whines got louder and Scott looked over. 

"Is he having a nightmare?"

"Yeah."

Stiles sat up, putting his hand over Derek's shoulders and gently shaking him, pulling his head onto his lap.

"He-ey buddy." He drew out the 'e'. "Wake up, c'mon, back into the land of the living you go."

Tired eyes opened and looked up at Stiles. Derek huffed, staring only a moment longer before the blue hardened, and he pulled his head away, turning around on the pillow and curling up into a ball, facing away from Stiles.

"Grumpy puppy."

***

After Scott and Isaac went home, and Stiles said goodnight to his father and tucked himself into bed, he was a little bit startled to feel Derek sit up, crawling over Stiles and pressing against his ribs, exhaling softly against the teenagers' neck.

Stiles tentatively put a hand around Derek's side, closing his eyes against black fur.

"Last time I had a cuddle buddy was when I was six. My mom would watch late night TV with me when I couldn't sleep. My dad would find us both asleep together in the morning."   
Stiles didn't understand what about this dog made him want to confide in him.

"When she died, she asked me to come and sleep with her on the hospital bed, told me that dad would wake us both up in the morning. I woke up to a flat-line and a father who couldn't look at me in the eye for months afterwards."

Derek shifted against him, bringing his face up from Stiles' sternum and pressing his cold wet nose against Stiles' cheek. The warm fuzz of his chin helped combat the chill from his nose.

Derek didn't give puppy kisses. Stiles thought this was the next best thing.

He ran gentle hands through ebony fur, letting the soft strands sooth sore callouses on his fingertips. Moonlight filtered in through the window, illuminating both the figures nestled under thin sheets of the bed.

"This is honestly the most I've ever talked on this subject. I'm not good with conversations. Eye contact makes me uncomfortable, I can't seem to filter my thoughts into words. You listen though, right?" Stiles opened his eyes, looking at the blur of black in his peripherals. Derek pushed his face more heavily into Stiles, as if in conformation. 

They were both silent for several minutes, taking comfort in the silent warmth of one another.

"I bet your mother loved you too..."

Derek whined softly against Stiles' skin. 

"I know she did."

The wind rustled against his window outside, Stiles closed his eyes, rubbing the tip of Derek's ear in one hand, letting the soft action stim his fidgety-ness and help lull him into a slumber.

***

A month and some into the ownership, Stiles noticed Derek had reactions to certain scents. Whenever Lydia came over to study, Derek was mellow. When Scott came over, he was tense. He had different actions for each of his friends. He got along best with Isaac, Erica and Boyd.

None of them crowded around him, none stepped over any boundaries and each seemed to fill the criteria Stiles had. 

Derek knew who he had been with the day by scent. The smell rubbed off on his mood and sometimes soured him for the rest of the day. The one day it was the worst, Derek refused to let Stiles cuddle up to him at all.

He was also visibly comfortable with his dad. When Stiles was busy with something else, and the Sheriff was on the couch, Derek would go and rest his head on his lap. His dad had always said that it was because Derek knew peoples' emotions, like stress. 

But it depended who you were, in the end. And it took a lot of time for Derek to warm up to Stiles.

Stiles always appreciated Derek's company. He was a sour one, who only worked on his own agenda and did whatever his wished at his own leisure, but he knew when sometimes he had to lay down and relax with the people he lived with. 

He didn't allow as much contact as Stiles would assume of a dog, but it added to the sweet victory whenever he was given permission to pet some new limb. Kisses were a new one, allowed to be given without the pouting afterwards. 

Stiles learned that him and Derek were on an equal balance. Derek wasn't a pet, and Stiles wasn't taken for granted. They were both companions, to be treated with equal respect. That was how they worked efficiently. Neither of them stuck their noses into the others' business when it didn't belong there.

Allison was ecstatic when Derek finally warmed up enough to lay down next to her. Each of his gang had a milestone with Derek, whether it be 'he finally allowed me to touch his ears!' or 'at least he doesn't growl at me anymore'. The former mostly being Lydia, Erica, Boyd and Kira, and the latter being pretty much everyone else. It was an adventure, having a dog that unpredictable with social interaction. 

At the end of a Friday, the day had dragged into the twilight hours. Sheriff had hit the hay early, tired from a long day at work. 

Stiles sat at the kitchen table, scrolling through social media and absent-mindedly munching on a bowl of cereal. He didn't know what brand. Who had the time to look at labels these days.

It was the third time he heard the noise when he finally looked up, outside the kitchen window.

Three times the sound of dragging something through the leaves.

Curious, he abandoned the bowl, stuffed his phone into his pocket, stepped into his shoes and slowly exited the back door, scanning the treeline of the woods for any immediate location of the repetitive sound. 

He heard it again, to his left, chosing to make his way over. Stiles was five minutes into a walk into the pitch black woods, when he nearly toppled over, surprised when his shoe scuffed a chain. 

A large, thick chain. He gathered his composure back, kneeling and pulling the chain out from under precariously placed leaves. Stiles pulled the chain taut, following the line with his eyes and standing to follow, pulling up inch after inch of metal from under the earth.

Ten steps from there, he stopped. Deep brown eyes followed the line of chain. A large bear trap. Rings of huge, razor sharp teeth-spikes were snapped all the way shut around a limb of some poor wildlife creature. 

A poor wildlife creature he soon recognized. 

The mangled black limb made way to a thick black body, pulling itself from it's leg and it's head. From Stiles' angle, he was pulling his leg away from the trap, trying to escape. Upon a closer inspection, he was pulling from his head, where thin wire was wrapped time and time again around his neck. Two rings were overlapping chain, and didn't cut into flesh. Three others however, did.

"Derek!"

The struggling sounds, and gruff whines grew louder the faster Stiles ran up to him, dropping down to the muddy forest floor to pull at the bear trap. 

He thought Derek was asleep upstairs. He didn't see him leave, didn't hear him leave, and specifically saw him walk up the stairs after his dad.

His hands were unsteady, shaking, and he felt hot, all the way down his spine. Worry, fear, anxiety all mixed up. There was red covering his hands by the time he had unhooked the trap enough to pull the broken leg out of the teeth. 

Derek pulled the useless leg under him, standing on the other foot and swinging his rear away from Stiles', so his head was in the humans' direction. That was all he needed to get to work on the wire. 

Good thing his dad had given him a pocket knife for his last birthday.

He would pull Derek out, carry him home then drive him to Scott's boss' clinic.

Or, he thought.

As soon as the wire was pulled from the dogs' throat, Derek had taken off at a jagged speed into the forest, too fast for Stiles despite the blood loss and snapped leg. 

"Derek, wait!"

The coyotes didn't even howl back. The only thing that did, was a chilling wind of silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm starting to formulate a plot, but to start it off, I had to do this. Sorry for the cliffhanger!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr @ venomofthewolf! I write and draw things for people when they ask.   
> If you have anything to share with me and any other fan of this story, tag your stuff on tumblr with; He Must Have Been Lonely TW, or HMHBL!

The veterinarian closed each herb-stuffed drawer with nimble fingers, peeling the latex gloves from his hands and sticking them under the warm spray from the faucet, washing up to the elbows. 

"The wolfsbane had made it a significant distance through your system by the time that human had found you. You're lucky." He spoke, facing away from the patient sitting on the examination table. 

Derek growled, stretching each limb and working the feeling back into them. Black sludge was splattered across nearly the whole floor of the room, remnants of the ebony liquid dripping down pale flesh. There was ashen markings lining each intricate vein on the man's neck, showing the trail of wolfsbane poisoning still leaving his system. Tiny scars had yet to heal along his throat and leg, where the wolfsbane was most concentrated. That plus the cauterizing procedure, which likely wouldn't heal ever again.

It was early in the morning, dawn after the night an unfortunate soul was caught in a hunters trap. 

"I don't need a lecture Deaton. All I know is that they're back for me. There was safety in the animal shelter, safety in the Stilinski house, but now I don't know how long before they try something like gunning the house down just to get to me." The man grit his teeth, running a hand down his face.

The vet sighed, leaning back against the counter of the sink and shrugging at the other. 

"I don't think they knew it was even you. You're virtually undetectable in your wolf form, to anyone but pack members, which... sadly, you don't have any of." He paused, passing a sorry glance to the glaring man. "The traps were probably placed as an odd chance, wanting to cover as much ground in hopes of catching a werewolf such as yourself. The trap was aligned for a larger form, that of your devolved wolf form, not your regular wolf.

"You're still in the clear. Stay at the Stilinski's. My employee keeps me updated on your status anyway."

The man rolled his eyes. "You mean Scott?"

"Yes, Scott. You know what he is too. You can smell it on him, but he can't smell it on you. Try not and out yourself. Those blue eyes are already cutting it pretty close." Deaton replied, straightening his supplies on the counters and passing a cloth underneath the faucet once more to wipe up the black mess.

The other scoffed, testing out his muscle movements once more before hopping off the table, grabbing the spare shirt from his bag. The duffel he had packed full and stashed at his emissary's clinic for safekeeping, and incidents like these.

He could smell wolves on the teenager when he stepped into the animal shelter that day. That was his best bet for safety. He had originally allowed him to adopt him so he could hunker down at his house, where it would be safe, until he deemed it okay to leave for good. But... Stiles was...

He was about to toss the shirt on, when Deaton responded.

"You won't be needing that, Derek. He's here now."

***

Scott and Stiles walked into the clinic, both fretting and tense. Scott's boss had called this morning, letting him know that he had found Stiles' dog behind his clinic last night, and had patched him up and let him rest for the night. He had called Stiles right away, and both had used their own modes of transportation to arrive at the clinic.

Scott picked something up from the back room.

Hushed voices. He tried tuning in, but they cut off as soon as he got a grip on the owner of the first voice. Inwardly, Scott cursed.

"Boss?" He called, ushering Stiles to push open the door and following him through to the back room.

Deaton was standing in the surgery room, hovering over a tired looking black mass of fur and checking him over one last time.

"Hello Scott, Stiles. I'm glad you could make it this early, I have no space to keep him today, what with new clients coming in." Deaton spoke, not looking up.

Stiles rushed over to the other side of the table, pressing both hands to Derek's fur and exhaling hard. He let his forehead down onto his dogs' and mumbled words of relief.

Scott sniffed. The room smelled oddly blank, like it had been doused in ammonia. But he knew he would be able to smell that. He chalked it up to the endless list of suspicious events that happened at work. But he knew that Deaton was hiding something.

"No problem. I was planning on the morning shift anyway."

"Good good. A woman brought her cat in late last night, so I'll put you on feline duty for today. Then use your excess time cleaning the clinic. I'll make sure to sort out that raise for you." He smiled in Scott's direction, before stepping back and letting the dog jump off the table.

The three made their way to the front, Scott stopping and letting Stiles and Derek leave. He stuck one hand in his pocket and waved at Stiles with a small grin.  
"You take care of him now. See ya buddy."

Stiles left, and Scott spent the rest of his shift wondering why his dog smelled so strongly of wolfsbane.

***

The sheriff was absolutely relieved when Stiles entered the house with a fixed up, totally-okay dog. His leg was bandaged, along with his throat, but there was little blood stains. His fur was clumped together with a dark substance, though unknown because of the shade of his fur, he assumed was blood.

"The good doctor gave him a perfect picture of health. He should be good now. Sure gave me a scare though. I don't think Derr-Bear is allowed outside for a bit now until dad gets the hunter traps revoked and taken down." Stiles said in a playful voice, grinning as Derek voiced his frustration. 

"I've put out the call at the station, yes. Wildlife rangers are going to be picking out these traps and putting out the warnings for no hunting until the season rolls around." Stiles dad spoke, placing some take-home work into certain folders and stacking them on the counter.

Derek shook his body and padded over to the living room, curling up at the foot of the couch and watching the two Stilinski's with hooded eyes.  
Sheriff Stilinski turned to his son after watching his dog trot over to the living room. 

"Stiles, you said he didn't leave the house last night? How do you think he got out?" He questioned, staring with an inquisitive gaze.

Stiles shrugged, racking his brain for words. "I don't know dad. He must've sneaked out of the back door or something. Look, what's done is done. The traps are being handled and he's smart enough not to let the same thing happen twice." He gave a reassuring smile before walking over and dropping down onto the sofa.

The sheriff sighed, and went back to work.

Neither of them ever noticed the window in Stiles' room was opened that night. 

***

There were packets of candies and chocolates spread out haphazardly over Stiles' room, the teenager in question sitting hunched over at his desk. His hair was disheveled and unruly, a grey wife beater hugging his torso and sweats of matching shade over legs. A stick from a Kit-Kat bar hung from his mouth, jiggling up and down as Stiles moved his jaw back and forth.

Bare feet lay underneath the large warm body of Derek, who was dozing lightly under the desk. His tail was flicking here and there, tickling Stiles' lower calf. The ticking of keys made large black ears twitch every now and then.

Birds were screaming their heads off outside the slightly ajar window, the sun seemingly just cheering them on harder. Stiles was finding the urge to scream right back at them growing with each passing little tweet. 

All these factors made up the afternoon which was unfolding at the Stilinski house. Where only one Stilinski was, currently. The sheriff was called into work at the crack of dawn.

A little Skype chat window popped up in the bottom corner of the screen, showing that Scott had finally decided to bug him back. Stiles minimized his numerous useless tabs (they weren't really useless, he just wanted to know what kind of birds were being put up for sale on sketchy websites) and clicked the message icon.

'Stiles, we're all thinking of meeting up in the woods tonight. Everyone's gonna be there.'

Stiles slunk back in his chair and twisted the chair side to side, thinking of a reply.

'Sure, I can be there. I'll bring Derek too. We can play a mass game of tag and see who trips over absolutely nothing into the hands of the cannibalistic serial killer first, sound good?'

'Great, meet you there dumbass. 10 pm sharp.'

Stiles closed (not really closed, minimized, cause fuck Skype) the window and resumed his earlier tasks of anything to do with birds. 

The inside of a cockatoo's mind was not to be taken lightly, he concluded at the end of his internet surf. 

Derek shifted on top of his feet from below the desk, and Stiles hunched over to look down at him, making eye contact with the tired looking dog. He had removed the bandages, showing tiny scarring, and strangely some charred scabs. The fur was already growing back sparsely over those areas, anyway. The collar was irritating the still-sore area around his neck, so Stiles decided to keep it off for a week till the swelling receded to non-painful standards.

He seemed to walk lighter without the chain. It made Stiles feel better.

***

The birds were replaced with crickets and the calming sounds of nocturnal species by the time Stiles had made it to their little group meetup. Lydia and Allison stood hand in hand next to the twins, while Erica, Boyd, Scott, Isaac and Kira were standing in an oddly shaped circle around a tiny barrel fire. The barrel had been here for years, teenagers from every generation using it to light up the little meeting spot.

Derek followed on silent paws after Stiles, figure barely standing out with the orange glare illuminating him. They were lucky his eyes were such a luminescent shade of blue.

"Hey Stiles." Scott piped up, turning around to face him. "Guess what the twins managed to smuggle out." He held up four bottles of high quality liquor.

"Scott. None of us are of legal drinking age."

"We're close enough. Let loose a little." He countered, letting Ethan pitch in.

"We are the adults here and we are letting you drink." His brother snickered in reply. 

"If you two are proper adults then I must be on some high quality shit right now." Stiles sighed, stepping over and sitting down on a large jutting rock, crossing his ankle over his knee and letting Derek sit down right beside him.

The only few people missing wouldn't be any fun anyway.

Long night? Of course it would be.

***

By the time everyone but the girls, Isaac and Boyd were reasonably wasted, the drunks were absolutely motionless on the ground, giggling to one another and looking at the sky like the stars just popped up overnight. Ethan was passed out over Aiden's stomach, who was still tossing back bottles like the worlds supply of alcohol was at a critical low.

Erica was sitting hip to hip with Boyd, both only gone through one bottle together. Lydia was sitting on Allison's lap, only a little bit more tipsy than her raven haired counterpart. Scott was rolling around giggling next to Isaac, poking him for any attention he could find. 

Kira was sitting next to Stiles and Derek. She was the least drunk out of all of them. Either she was a saint, or she had an alcohol tolerance none of them could hope to beat.  
Stiles dropped a pointing hand to the tree line a few yards away from him, whistling loudly. 

"Ayyy look'it. Puppy." His vocabulary had decreased fourteen years in fourteen minutes. 

This brought the attention of all participants to where the drunk child was pointing. There, at the tree-line, stood frozen another large black dog. Easily mistaken for Derek, even, if said pup wasn't sitting chest to chest with Stiles.

Derek let out a low growl, standing and pinning his ears against his head. This startled drunk Stiles, as in the whole time he had Derek, not once had he shown signs of aggression that actually seemed to entail violence.

The other dog lacked hostility, simply staring, almost smiling at the group. Derek's snarls increased and he pawed the stony ground, fangs bared and dripping in saliva.

"Woahh, Der'ck. Calm d'n, i's just another one of you." Stiles slurred, flicking Derek's side. The dog didn't flinch. But the moments of still anger was all it took for him to lunge and chase after the other dog, who tore off into the woods as soon as Derek came after it.

Allison and Kira called out for him, Stiles still catching up with what just happened. But Derek wasn't answering.

***

Three hours later, when the sober ones had dragged the less fortunate teenagers to their respectful homes, Derek showed up. Well, not really showed up, since when they brought Stiles back, the dog was laying down next to the front door. He was muddy, fur tangled and scruffy looking, and had debris and unknown substances underneath his nails. He had been through a romp of sorts, that was for sure. 

Whatever had befallen the second dog, was to be left unknown.

They tucked Stiles in with a thin blanket on the couch, and left without waking man nor dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still quite new here on AO3. Italics and bolds don't work for me and I'm too lazy to change it right now, so sorry for not indicating stressed words. That, and the notes from the first chapter are stuck on every chapter. Please let me know how I did, what you think about the story so far, what you think might happen, and what you want to see happen! I'll do my best to impress.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna lack on updates for a while! Don't worry, I won't leave chapters for months, just a few weeks! And again, I'm sorry for the short, low quality chapter. I'll try to work harder, I just want to have lots of updates for you guys.

Talia Hale was a wise woman. A woman who demanded only the most respect and obedience. An alpha to overpower alphas. She mothered three children, with her husband, and her little brother at her side. And even with this large family, such a large responsibility, she still asserted her dominance and kept her family safe. First for Laura, then for Derek, and finally her baby Cora. Talia managed to make herself a mother for all three and their unique needs, to make Laura feel validated, to help make Derek feel safe, and to make Cora feel needed.

Talia Hale was a woman to be respected.

Derek took most after his mother. Her pack and family was her first and foremost responsibility. She sought to protect those she loved the most. She gave him her wits, her smarts, and her instincts. But she gave Cora her eyes. Laura and her brother took their fathers. 

Laura was almost the spitting image of Talia. The young wolf held the most finesse and power, masking her role as an alpha with snark and sass. Cora took the same mask, bitterness in favour of true colours. Derek? He was simply lost.

All he took after their memories was fire. To be burned alive in a world where humans could turn into beasts and the supernatural were only natural. It made Derek angry. Such powerful beings in his life and in the world stripped away from him by a measly thing such as fire. 

But he was strong. He would take back what he lost, even if it meaned living as a pet for a high school teenager and his father while he layed low. A shelter would be the last place the hunters would check for a werewolf. With the Stilinski's, even less.

The way the fire burned to the way his heart burned whenever he was around the Stilinski's was too similar to be comfortable. He assumed being in a primal predator form for so long would do that. A dog was a guardian. They protected family, like how Derek was protected by his. He wanted the feeling of protecting something too. 

And on days like these, the radio playing so loud the wind rushing through his ears seemed like low white noise, the chill on his chin where he rested his head outside the window, the thrumming of Stiles's thumb against the wheel of the battered blue jeep making Derek's tail sway gently; Derek felt like he got what he wanted in the end. 

But those days weren't meant to be forever. 

Like his family.

***

Derek was seldom apart from Stiles. When the teen was at school, Derek would sulk around the treeline on the lacrosse field or pace around the perimeter of the building. On lazy days, he would simply sit outside the window of whichever class Stiles was in at the time. At home, he would doze at his feet or be hot on his heels were he up and about. In the month and so that Derek had been apart of the family, he had not been away from Stiles for more than thirty minutes, ever. Disregarding the vet visit, trap incident and the lone dog. 

Today, Derek was sandwiched between Stiles and Erica, head resting on Erica's lap while his tail brushed against Stiles' knee. The two were sitting outside, reading through as many random books as they could for the research project in history. Erica seemed to have a plethora of them in her bag, pulling out one book after another. Not to say Stiles didn't have an impressive collection, too. Derek liked Erica.

Stiles noticed it too. He smiled.

"Take a look through this one," Stiles had said, passing over a book. "It's got some juicy bits for the second half." She flipped to the marked page and skimmed through it, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. She landed on one section and scribbled some notes down on the notebook on her knee. 

Derek was dozing, a little huff of air leaving him whenever he breathed in deep. His ears weren't twitching to every little sound, which was interesting. 

Erica and Stiles exchanged words about the project, Erica deciding to absentmindedly run her fingers softly through the fur on his neck. She ran little circles through his fur, rubbed up and down, and slid her hand down to his back.

Derek jolted with a bark and turned head to snap at her.

All Stiles needed to confirm what just happened was Erica's hiss of pain. 

Stiles shoved his work off his lap and grabbed Derek by the scruff on his neck, yanking him away. "Jesus christ Derek! Bad! Go home!"

He picked up Erica's arm, relatively deep bite marks marring her forearm. Her eyebrows were knit together, a look of pain on her face. There was blood dripping down her arm. Not too much, but bad enough. Derek was standing with his head low, ears back and a small whine drawing from his throat.

"What did I just say? Get away! Look at what you did!" He waved the cowering dog away while he stood, helping Erica to her feet and bringing her back inside to treat the bite, mumbling something about euthanization. 

Derek tuned out the sounds around him, ears flat against his head, before he turned tail and ran, past the parking lot, past the twin motorbikes, and into the woods. He didn't stop running until he nearly tripped and slammed into the rotten wood of the porch steps to the remains of the charred house. He growled at the broken step, where his paw had slipped into and he had yanked it out of place, before limping quickly into the house. He knew it inside and out. 

His nose led him to the rotten hole underneath the stairs. He wiggled inside, ignoring the smell of death and smoke, and wrapping up in the foundation of the house. Stupid. Stupid Derek.

Fur fell away to skin, ashen and dirty after the tumble through the forest. Derek cursed himself.

His fault.

His nightmare, his reflex, now he was saddled with a bitten teenager and the loss of his only safe-house. She might die. She would either die or she would be his responsibility, blowing out his whole cover. 

Derek slammed a fist into the wood, closing his eyes as splinters resulted the loud crash of the block and sending part of the floor caving in. 

Fuck this. 

He crawled out of the hole, standing straight up and looking around the house.

His house. 

Instinct led him upstairs, where he knew there would be some semblance of clothing to cover his nude body. One thing his mother told him. Always have a back-up plan. And in his case, a separate change of clothes. 

This bag consisted of a faded green shirt, the sleeves meeting his elbows, underwear, a pair of jeans and his least favourite leather jacket. It would do. The transition from a thick fur coat to bare skin was harsh, it was better than nothing. 

Face contorted in concentration, Derek wondered what would happen now. The native packs of Beacon Hills would be able to sense him now. Smell him even from here. He could always revert to his wolf form, but he could use the wolf side to mask any trail he laid out as a human. This would throw off hunter and werewolf alike. 

He slung the duffel bag over his shoulder and tied up the old pair of boots which managed to survive the fire. The wold exited the house, looking nothing like a true wolf as of now, and started the trek back to the high school.

***

Getting there took about fifteen minutes, give or take. He would stash his bag in the vault when the students cleared out, then track down the girl.

Standing ominously near the school sign seemed to attract plenty of attention, which was a no-go. Glaring at kids passing by only did the trick for so long, but it was hard not to notice the scruffy, dirty looking guy standing absolutely still with a permanent look of certain death on his face outside a high school.

He managed to stash his belongings without incident. Coming out of the vault, shutting it, then turning to scent out the girl, had some incident. 

He retraced her steps through the school. The blood had been wiped up, probably a custodian. 

The scent led out to the back of the school, then around to where the scent of that blue jeep he knew so well had been parked. The smell of the gasoline lead a perfect trail back to the Stilinski house. He could make it there, ten minutes tops. 

He met little to no distractions on the way there. He gathered himself up a lie and some composure before he stepped up the porch steps, knocking firmly on the door and standing straight-spined.

The sheriff opened the door. 

"Hi, you're Sheriff Stilinski, yeah? You own that black dog? I just saw him running around the woods out by the old Hale house." He started, having to pinch himself to keep the lie steady. He could draw the sheriff out, get his business done with the two annoying teens, then skedaddle. 

The sheriff looked skeptical at first, but once the location of his sons dog was revealed, he sighed and went to grab his coat. 

"Thank you, sir. That damn dog is in trouble and we can't have him running around." He said, stuffing his keys into his pockets and side-stepping past Derek to his cruiser. 

And he was gone.

Derek waited till the sound of tires had faded before growling at the dog comment. Stripping of his outer layer of clothes and stuffing them into a ball in the bushes, he began shifting into his wolf and making his way in through an open window. 

On one hand, Derek was confused at how they didn't recognize him as the last remaining Hale. Well, second last. His uncle popped up around here and there, deserving a good chase and a swift bite to the throat. And that's happened once already. He wouldn't be back to antagonize him any time soon.

But, back to the point, it was probably cause he was still in his teens when the fire happened. Yeah.

The wolf stalked up the stairs, scenting out the teens. With a snort, he suppressed the alpha red in his eyes and let the beta blue rise once again. Such was a benefit for Derek personally. 

His paw had healed, but he decided on the 'beat-up-pup' look. He turned and tore at his own side, holding back a whine and watching skin break and blood bubble. The limp and the dirt would add to the effect. 

Limping down the hallway in front of Stiles' open bedroom door seemed to catch his attention. Half of the teen's face screamed relief, the other half was hardened and angry at Derek. 

Before Stiles could stand with Erica and say anything to the wolf, the door downstairs opened and footsteps hurried up the staircase. Too light to be the Sheriff, that and the scent told Derek Hell was approaching.

Scott McCall came into view, holding the bundle of dirty clothes in his hand. Derek growled low in his throat, baring a fang at Scott before slumping down and inching towards Erica.

"Stiles, are these yours? I found them outside your house." Scott said, thrusting the jacket and other articles of clothing into his hands. Stiles shook his head, perplexed. Scott scowled, but didn't say anything else. Derek knew he could smell wolf on them. 

He left Stiles and Scott to bicker. Scott came over to check on Erica after he got off work. Derek kept low and looked up at Erica. She didn't seem scared or cautious of him. Derek tried to let off the 'I'm sorry' vibe as best he could. He wasn't good at that. 

She smiled softly at him. Her face seemed fuller, less tired. The bite worked. Derek felt his stomach drop. The wound was covered, but he was sure she would realize it was healed soon.

He put his chin on her knee, before opening his mouth and dropping the piece of paper he had scribbled on earlier. Erica seemed surprised, picking it up with index and thumb (the slobber was everywhere) and reading the tiny words. Derek didn't wait.

With a swipe of his tongue over his nose, he stood, turned tail, and bolted past Scott, out the door, and out of the house via window, ignoring the calling of the three teens as he made his way back into the forest.

Forget the clothes. Stiles could use a change in wardrobe anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to tag any fanwork on tumblr with HMHBL and venomofthewolf! I would love to see the stuff you guys create!

**Author's Note:**

> This story is still a work in progress. I have no plot in mind currently, but I know for sure it will be a multi-chaptered slow burn. Relationships blossom after a few chapters, Derek will turn human by the time he and Stiles start courting one another. First chapter is relatively short, as it is reminiscent of a prologue.


End file.
